


Gonna Make a Pie

by PaintByNumber



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Baking, Domestic, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Just a little angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-29
Updated: 2016-12-29
Packaged: 2018-09-13 01:40:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9100789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaintByNumber/pseuds/PaintByNumber
Summary: Benny used to love making pies when he was young, when he was human. When he finally has a reason to make one again, his human lover Dean, he finds that it isn't easy as it once was.





	

Extra pie dough could be saved or used as decoration on top of the pie.

Benny’s grandma taught him everything he knew about making pies. They would make them together every time he visited her, standing in a tiny, hot kitchen in the swamps of Louisiana without air conditioning to cool their sweat sticky skin. 

Melted butter or olio on the rolling pin made it easier to press the dough flat without it sticking. It also made the crust buttery and flaky.

His father didn’t like that his son was baking since it was women’s work. Benny liked to bake despite his father’s words against it and would learn as much as he could. His grandmother would tell him tips on how to make the best pie and he would scribble them down the best he could. He could make them by memory after a while of her teaching him. It was something he took great pride in as well as something that he missed everyday since he was turned. He forgot about his love for baking when he went to purgatory and the thought of survival was the only one he had.

Putting flour on the rolling pin would make the crust dense.

Benny had lived in the bunker for two years, ever since Dean told Sam about his relationship with Benny. Sam surprisingly took it in stride and seemed happy for his brother finding someone to settle down with even as a hunter. He hadn’t thought much of using the kitchen, much of his younger years long forgotten, until one day when searching the library for a book that would help Sam and Dean with their current hunt and he instead stumbled upon a worn out copy of The Joy of Cooking. He ran his fingers of the crisscrossed blue cloth cover and a smile grew on his face steadily. Memories rushed over him all at once, the smells of the pies baking, the feeling of the dough working and warming in his hands, the satisfaction of taking a bite of warm apple pie fresh from the oven.

Cold pie dough is stiff and hard to work with, it practically crumbles.

“Feet pue tan,” Benny muttered under his breath as he attempted to work the dough together in his hands. He wanted to have a pie waiting for Dean when he got home from his latest hunt and the dough was crumbling in his hands. “Why isn’t it working?” He asked himself before looking over the recipe in the cookbook. He shook his head, knowing he had it correct. He looked down at his hands then, remembering his grandmother’s most important tip. Cold dough was hard to work with and wouldn’t flatten with a rolling pin without tearing. Usually that could be helped by warming the dough with your hands but his hands were only making the dough colder. His hands were the equivalent of rubbing ice packs on the dough and expecting it to roll out neatly. Benny thought a moment then glanced over at the microwave. It made food hot, so perhaps it could help the dough. He put the bowl into the microwave and set it for two minutes. When he pulled it out he was dismayed to see that the dough was steaming and seemed almost liquid in some areas. He threw it out in anger and left the kitchen, vowing never to bake again.

\--

“I just want a homemade pie,” Dean complained for what felt like the 50th time that hour. “It’s Christmas, we should have a pie.” Benny shook his head at his lover sat next to him.

“We have a kitchen, you have hands, make yourself a pie,” Sam muttered from across the library where he was more focused on the screen of his laptop than his brother’s woes. 

Benny tuned out Dean’s next complaint about how he didn’t now how to make a pie as he began a mental list of possible ways that he could make his hands warm enough to make a pie for Dean.

\--

Sam and Dean left two weeks before Christmas for a hunt. They were reluctant to do so with the holiday they had started celebrating coming up, but it was a simple salt and burn so they decided to head out anyway. 

On the third day they were gone, Benny came home with a bag full of supplies. Rubber gloves, hand warmers, a hair straightener, and enough ingredients to make 10 pies in case he messed them all up. 

With the rubber gloves, he dipped them in nearly boiling water then put them on and tried to work the dough. It turned out soggy and was thrown into the trash.

With the hand warmers, he activated them and held them tightly in his hands then rolled the dough. It worked for a while and made a passible pie, but it wasn’t the best he could do so he threw it out as well. 

The hair straightener was a truly desperate attempt. He plugged it in and ran it over the dough on the cutting board. The result was the worst smell he had ever experienced along with burnt dough and a ruined hair tool. The straightener and the dough joined the previous attempts in the trash. 

Even if he left the dough out to warm up on its own, a minute or two of him working with it, it would be cold and crack apart again. He got too frustrated to keep trying and cleaned the kitchen in deep frustration. 

To busy himself, he dug boxes of Christmas decorations out of storage to at least do something to make the bunker full of holiday cheer even if he couldn’t make Dean his homemade pie. 

\--

Sam and Dean returned on Christmas Eve to Benny’s great relief. They hadn’t been able to call or text often because of poor reception where they were so Benny struggled with not knowing how the hunt was going. 

They exchanged little gifts that could have been picked up at any gas station between the hunt and the bunker (Benny got a shot glass from Sam from Payne, Oklahoma) then they spent the night eating pizza and drinking beers together. 

Benny and Dean retired to their bed late in the evening when Dean couldn’t stop yawning in the middle of his words. 

“How was it being here alone?” Dean asked as they settled into bed.

Benny shrugged, pulling the blanket over himself. “Wasn’t my first time being alone here, cher.”

“Yeah, but…” Dean sighed, “I found 8 bags of flour and sugar in the kitchen… And a hair straightener in the trash. Wanna tell me about that?”

Benny groaned and rolled over so he was facing away from Dean, “I knew I should have taken that trash out.” 

“Benny, what happened?” Dean asked, rubbing his arm gently.

“I wanted to make you a damn pie,” Benny sighed. “But I couldn’t… My hands are too cold and the dough crumbles and I hate that I can’t do one simple thing for you, something I’m good at and something you want.”

Dean was silent for a long moment and Benny almost thought he had fallen asleep until he felt Dean get out of bed and grab at his hand. “Come on,” he said, determination in his voice. 

“Dean, what’re we–“ Benny broke off when Dean yanked the covers off of him.

“Come on,” Dean repeated before walking out of the room. Benny sighed and followed after him, surprised when Dean stopped in the kitchen. “Grab all the stuff you need and I’ll get the bowls out.”

“Dean… What are we doing?” 

“We’re gonna make a pie.” 

“I can’t, my hands are too–“ 

“I’m gonna be your hands, put yours over mine and guide me along,” Dean shrugged as he pulled out mixing bowls. 

Benny smiled a little, his heart warming in his chest. He silently got out the ingredients and measured them out and mixed them together. When he needed Dean’s hands, Dean stood in front of him at the counter and Benny covered his hands with his own, guiding him through working the dough together. Benny couldn’t hold back his grin when he saw that it was working, the warmth from Dean and the skill from Benny mixed together to make the perfect dough. 

“I used to do this with my grandmother,” Benny said after a long stretch of silence.

“Make pies in the middle of the night in an intimate position?” Dean joked, smirking. 

Benny chuckled and shook his head, “no, we used to make pies together… She taught me how. My father used to call me horrible things for it…” He paused at the darker memories that came to him, his hands tightening on Dean’s. “But I loved it anyway, it was so relaxing and I liked coming up with different kinds in my head, I made this banana and oatmeal pie that was disgusting but my gran acted like she enjoyed it… She died just before I was turned. I stopped making pies when she died.” Benny fell into a silence, chewing his lip. 

“What made you wanna try again?” Dean finally asked.

“You,” Benny whispered. “You wanted a homemade pie and I wanted to make one for you. But I couldn’t… I tried ridiculous things like heating the dough with a hair straightener,” he chuckled and shook his head. “That was my last resort then I gave up.”

“Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“Because I wanted to surprise you, be a romantic boyfriend,” Benny kissed the back of his head gently as they moved the flattened dough into a pie plate. 

“I don’t need romance,” Dean said as Benny showed him how to shape the edge of the crust.

“I know you don’t need it, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to give it to you.” 

Dean stepped back and washed his hands as Benny began to work on the filling in silence. He poured it into the shell and placed it in the oven while Dean set a timer.

“I love you, Benny,” Dean said softly, wrapping his arms around his waist. “I love that you’re a romantic… But don’t do so much that you get so frustrated you buy and then throw out a hair straightener,” he grinned at him before kissing him gently.

Benny pulled away slowly after a moment, “yeah, I can handle that.”

“And I can make more pies with you, it was actually kind of nice and I get to eat pie. Win win win.”

“What’s the third win?” Benny chuckled, holding Dean close to his body.

“Helping you do something you love,” Dean shrugged, not meeting Benny’s eyes.

Benny smiled, he had always loved how Dean struggled with romantic moments even if he brought them on himself. “Then I think we’ll have more pies in the future,” he said before kissing him lovingly, a silent thank you.


End file.
